Page 31 of Then We Shatter

“Sure, and I bet Duke Moncrief says the same thing too while eating her pussy.”

Malachy anticipates a reaction and when I fling my cup straight at his head, he smashes it back with his hand. As I’m dodging it, he leaps over the kitchen island to get to me.

I fall backwards onto the floor with Malachy on top of me. The sound of my cup smashing on the tiles is drowned out by the growl in my chest and the roar of blood in my veins. I grab Malachy by the scruff of his collar and haul him off me. He pulls me with him and as we roll around the floor trading punches, shards of broken crockery dig into my back.

I see stars when Malachy lands a particularly well aimed punch to my jaw, and I repay him with a direct hit to his nose. It’s not our first fist fight and won’t be the last. It’s definitely not the worst. The fights we had around the time our mother died were particularly vicious and cathartic. We couldn’t take our anger out on the perpetrators so we took it out on each other. I have a scar from a stab wound on my shoulder to prove it.

This particular fight fizzles out quickly. I’m tired after my flight and Malachy’s been up all night. Lorcan’s steps are slow and measured, and he waits until we both collapse on our backs to take a breath before planting one foot between our bodies and the other on Malachy’s chest. He trusts I won’t take advantage of his intervention. Neither of us could say the same about Malachy.

“I’m calling it a draw,” he says. “You were both underwhelming.”

When he steps back, Malachy rolls one way and I roll the other. Our shirts are stained with blood and coffee, and I add another smear of blood to my cuff when I stand up and wipe my mouth. We glare at each other over Lorcan’s shoulder.

“You can’t see it,” Malachy says, clearly not done yet.

“See what?”

“You’re distancing yourself from us.”

I look at him dumbfounded. “I’m not.”

“Forgive me if I’m not convinced,” he says, the venom having left his words. “You don’t like the old ways, you never have. It’s why you’ve put so much time and effort into working with Ash, too often without reward.”

“I build legitimate businesses that are sustainable, and yes, sometimes the Griffins’ ethos of giving back to communities rubs off on me. I make connections we wouldn’t otherwise have, garner respect from people we’d normally repulse. Our perceived charity is never completely selfless.”

“I don’t disagree, but in case you haven’t noticed, Dad’s getting tired of this game too,” Malachy says. “And with you ready to self-sabotage, who’ll be expected to step up? Who isn’t going to be allowed to watch from the fucking back row?”

I chew on my cut lip and swallow my anger. “Firstly, I’m sorry for saying that, and Dad shouldn’t have said it either. You lead as much as you do follow. You’re cooler under pressure than I am, maybe too cold occasionally but it’s no worse than how hot headed I can get.” I heave out a sigh of resignation. “And for the record, I’m not self-sabotaging. I’d never turn my back on the family. I like breaking necks too much to go completely soft.”

Malachy probes his bloodied nose for breaks. “Dad’s never going to accept a Barkov into the family. Not ever,” he warns. “And what happens then? What happens if you fall for Katarina and you’re forced to choose? People like us don’t love quietly. It’s why we shouldn’t love at all.”

I want to deny every single point he’s made, but I can’t argue about Dad not accepting Katarina. And the ache I feel in my heart for every hour I’m away from her suggests I’m not just falling, I’m falling hard. What would happen if there was a choice to make?

“I would always choose my family, Mal.”

It shouldn’t be in doubt. So why do my words sound hollow?

Malachy sees the flicker of doubt in my pinched expression, but doesn’t call me out again. “I’m going to bed,” he says, running a hand through his mussed-up hair. “Will you still be here later?”

“I’ll stay a few days,” I promise, if only to prove to myself I can put family first. “But I do need to get back soon to arrange that meeting with Ash.”

My brother’s shaking his head as he turns away. “Still fucking lying to yourself,” he mutters.

Lorcan stays, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

“What?” I demand, then immediately regret it. Lorcan’s considered verdict will be my damnation.

He shrugs. “Malachy’s not wrong.”

Chapter 12

Killian

“Holy fuck,” I gasp out as my eyes roam every inch of Katarina’s body. If ever there was a moment I could give this woman my heart and the last of my freewill, it’s now. She’s wearing killer heels and a lime green bodycon dress that barely covers her thighs.

Katarina’s hips sway in lethal arcs as she takes my shoulders and backs me against the massage chair. It’s a new addition to the therapy room that was my surprise for her. I drop onto the chair, my jaw slack and my cock ramrod hard.

“Like it, Shorty?”